his eyes were glassy; his lips were parted; while the grime of a London
fog had left its black marks round his mouth and eyes, giving him an
appearance altogether diabolical. He was shaking like a leaf as he
stumbled against a chair and suddenly wheeled round to the light.

Then, unbuttoning his overcoat quickly, he looked down at his clothes
underneath. He passed his hand over them and held it in the light, with
a shudder.

Max uttered a sharp cry.

The stain on Dudley's hand, the wet patches which glistened on his dark
clothes, were stains of blood.




CHAPTER III.

DUDLEY EXPLAINS.


As the cry of horror escaped the lips of Max, Dudley wheeled quickly
round and met his eyes.

For a moment the two men stood staring at each other without uttering a
word. It seemed to Max that his friend did not recognize him; that he
looked like a hunted man brought to bay by his pursuer, with the furtive
expression in his eyes of a creature trying to devise some means of
escape.